A Revelation

Anyone who knows me knows I love Halloween.  I love decorating, costuming, and for the past three years, making all these things into a theme for the whole family.  (This year was Tangled)
I don't love the candy coatedness of it.
Actually, that's not true.  For many many years I did love the candy best of all, but it's only recently that I realized how much it did not love me back.  Stupid lying candy, pretending to be my friend.
So this year, instead of being jazzed about how much of my favorites Sam hauled in, I was a little bummed to see her come home with a bag that weighed too much for her to carry.  Of course it was full to the brim of stuff way more tempting than what I handed out (since I wasn't stupid enough to buy my favorites two weeks in advance). Daniel was so proud of himself Sam and their trick or treating triumph.  This on top of the fact that we got like 15 trick or treaters, and even though by the time I realized pickings were slim I was handing out entire handfuls to our diminished parade, I'm still left with nearly two Costco-sized bags of candy (both open of course, so someone could sneak treats before the holiday, and therefore unreturnable).  The troops may be getting a donation from us very soon.
I had a few treats yesterday, but I'm trying to leave it at that so I don't go out of control.  So, for today at least, I'm surrounded by my own demons.  They're colorful and sugary and I'm struggling.  I don't like it.  I don't like it at all!
Plus, even though Sam only had like four pieces between yesterday and today, just the sight of all the sugar has her revved up.  She is constantly asking me if she can have a piece (not right now), when she can have it (after lunch), and planning out what she will eat on what days (the grape dum dum is for later today, while the fun dip will be saved for tomorrow).  If I say she can't eat it, she re-sorts it, and re-counts it.  If I hide in my room, she brings up the bag, literally holds it up to my face, and says "Look at all this candy! Doesn't it look tasty?" I kid you not.  What is she, some sort of paid Willy Wonka cult member trying to drag me back into the fold?
Anyway, it's been a battle of wills around these parts.  All the excitement has Sam's obeying worse than usual (although I'm happy to say she hasn't opened a single candy she's been forbidden not to, that's pretty good for three!).  Finally, I got tired of having to ask her at least 10 times to do something.  I'm convinced that her general rule is that Mom isn't serious until she yells, and possibly makes you do a stint in time out.  After that, you can get around to doing whatever she asked you to do.
I just can't take it anymore, so I informed her that for every time after the first time I ask her to do something and it doesn't get done (and I know she heard me), a piece of her precious candy is going in the trash.  And I pick the candy, no unloading the crappy pieces as "punishment."  She wasn't really sure I was serious. I figured if she did continue disobeying, at least the pile is getting smaller, and if she shaped up, great.  I'm certainly no worse off in my candy factory than I was before, but now I'm not dealing with bratty behavior.
We've only sacrificed one fun size Skittles, and Sam has been behaving like an angel ever since.
At long last, after a quarter century of playing their sick little game according to their rules, I have found a way to work Halloween candy to my advantage. No stomachache or self-loathing necessary.
Hello, you little sugary devils, you're at my mercy now!  The tables have turned, and you are working for me! Muah ha ha ha!